


Sharp Fangs, Soft Smiles

by eragon19



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And also fucking Greg Lestrade, Biting, Blood Drinking, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Human Greg, Multi, Porn With Very Little Plot, Sherlock and John are super fucking married, Smut, Vampire John, Vampire Sherlock, Vinaigrettes, everyone has a good time, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 00:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18510514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eragon19/pseuds/eragon19
Summary: A series of loosely connected one-shots in which Greg gets caught between two vampires who are dying to have him. Or pure, indulgent vampire smut with our three favorite men.Human Greg/Vampire Sherlock/Vampire John





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love vampirelock, and wanted to write Johnlockstrade for the longest time, thus this fic was born. It's going to be a series of one shots that follow Greg getting risqué with John and Sherlock. These are purely for fun and will be pretty much porn with very little plot. Of course, everyone involved is having a good time.

Greg took a drag of his cigarette as their newest detainee was led away in handcuffs.  His shoulder and side still throbbed from their scuffle earlier. Greg couldn’t call it fight. He’d been in enough of those in his lifetime to know taking down someone with one right hook wasn’t a fight. He smirked as he thought of the look of shock on the man’s face before he’d dropped under Greg’s fist. Greg normally didn’t like using brute force against suspects, but the little shit had rammed him into the wall.

Taking in the blossoming bruise on the man’s face he knew his gym time with Toby was paying off.

“Nice work Lestrade.”

Greg jumped slightly at the voice, though by now he should be used to it.

“I should be thanking you,” Greg said with a tilt of his lips at Sherlock.

The man smirked at him and took a swig of his coffee.

“How are you John?” Greg asked without looking.

He knew the man would be there, on his left, the way he always was. John was just as bloody quiet as his husband.

“Doing well, and you? How’s the shoulder?”

Greg didn’t bother to ask how he knew. He’d gotten to used to Sherlock’s and John’s  _ quirks  _ in all the years he’d been working with them. Three years to be precise.

“Just a bit sore,” unable to resist he added, “You should see the other fella.”

Twin groans came from either side of him and Greg smiled.

“Well with that I think we’ll be off,” John said, though Greg could hear the smile in his voice.

“Tomorrow for statements.”

“After-

“After six of course. Your boss is strict, isn’t he?”

“Incredibly,” Sherlock said, with a sly smile at John.

Greg felt as if he were missing out on an inside joke, a common occurrence when he spent any length of time with Sherlock and John. It didn’t bother him in the slightest. He’d been married once, he knew how it went.

“Well until tomorrow Lestrade,” Sherlock said, tossing his empty cup at a bin a good ten feet away. It went in perfectly of course, didn’t even ricochet off the side.

“Night Greg,” John said with a smile.

Greg smiled back and watched to two of them walk off. Just before they rounded the corner out of sight he saw Sherlock take John’s hand into his own.

Sighing, Greg scanned the area, making sure his team was doing what they were supposed to.

“Oi,” he called to new officer clutching a pile of evidence bags, “Make sure the serial numbers match this time Evans.”

Seeing the man’s ears go red, Greg strode over to help him.

*****

Greg sighed and stretched as he sat behind his desk at the Yard. The rest of the floor was quiet, with only him and Sally left working.  Greg still had paperwork and he waiting for Sherlock and John to put in an appearance so he could take their statements.

He texted them half an hour ago only to be told they were finishing dinner and would be there soon. Sherlock had texted him two minutes later and said they needed be quick as he and John had a show to attend.

Part of Greg was annoyed, the other part of him felt oddly comforted there were other people who kept hours as odd as his.

He sighed again and cracked his neck, trying to stretch out the near permanent kink that sat between his top two vertebra. He tipped his head back and luxuriated in the burning pull of his neck muscles. When he straightened up John was in the doorway, with Sherlock looming right behind him.  They were both staring at him, their faces identically blank.

The hairs on the back of Greg’s neck stood up and he swallowed hard.

John and Sherlock moved forward in unison, gliding through the office door. Sherlock shut it behind him with a thud that seemed to resonate through the space. A space that suddenly felt very  _ very  _ small.

“Good night Greg,” John said smoothly, a thin smile on his face.

He slid into the seat in front of the desk, his eyes never leaving Greg’s.

“He isn’t pleading police brutality is he?” Sherlock said from right next to him, one long finger tapping last night’s arrest mugshot.

Greg smothered a yelp. Somehow Sherlock had slid into his personal space without Greg noticing. Hell, the man’s coat was brushing his arm. He must be more tired than he thought.

“Err, no he isn’t. Thanks to this,” he tore his gaze from John’s and flipped to a photograph of his own bruised shoulder and side.

Sherlock hummed, bending over to peer at the picture. His curls bushed Greg’s cheek. Greg swallowed. Sherlock had always been inclined to invade people’s space, but that was usually when he was trying to intimidate someone. This was new.  

Greg looked up to see how John was reacting to Sherlock’s odd behavior. John had leaned over the desk as if to better see the photo of Greg, but he wasn’t looking at the picture at all. Instead he was still staring at Greg; the same tiny smile on his face.

Greg met his eyes and smiled back as best as he could. Sherlock’s coat collar scratched against his neck, and John leaned even closer, his eyes boring into Greg’s. He felt Sherlock turn his head, and then two pairs of eyes were focused on him.

The air felt thick and only an ache in Greg’s chest made him realize he’d been holding his breath.  He let it out in a stuttered hiss, and John’s eyes seemed to brighten.

“I think Sherlock wants some attention,” John said, his voice smooth and soft.

Greg found himself turning his chair toward Sherlock before he knew what he was doing.

If John’s eyes were a slow smolder, Sherlock’s eyes were a wild fire. They were the palest Greg had ever seen him and blazing with an emotion Greg couldn’t, no  _ wouldn’t _ name.

“Just relax Greg,” John whispered, “It’s only Sherlock and I, just relax.”

“I-

“Shhhh,” Sherlock’s voice was almost a growl, and Greg shivered.

“Just relax,” John said again.

One small hand cradled the back of his head and Greg vaguely wondered when John had moved.

“Nice and slow,” John said.

Greg got the impression he was talking to Sherlock, but he kept his movements slow as he reclined against his chair.  John’s fingers flexed in his hair.

Sherlock’s eyes shifted to John and he smiled. The smile was sharper than Greg was used to too. He’d become accustomed to Sherlock’s smirks, and smaller genuine smiles. This was a wide grin he’d never seen before. There was something…off about it. Greg couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Sharp was all that came to mind, but that didn’t make any sense. Sherlock’s eyes met his again and any unease he had faded away.

It was just Sherlock and John after all, there was nothing to be afraid off.

“Very good, Greg. Perfect,” John said. 

Greg smiled lazily at the praise. Sherlock’s smile widened and he leaned closer. His hands landed on Greg’s thighs and gave them a squeeze before spreading them, making space for him to side between. The detective leaned closer and closer until his eyes became black smudges in Greg’s vision.

John’s fingers tightened in his hair and guided his head back until their eyes met. John was standing next to his chair, his eyes darker than Greg had ever seen them. He was smiling warmly at Greg, another  _ wrong  _ smile on his face. Greg wasn’t bothered by it.

It was just John after all.

“Alright?” John asked, his voice rough.

“Yeah,” Greg breathed.

The breath turned into a moan as Sherlock’s lips met his neck.

“Just relax, you’ll enjoy it I promise,” John said, his fingers petting through Greg’s hair. “Nice slow breathes for me.”

Greg complied. Something was coming, something he knew he would enjoy. He simply had to wait and relax, just as John wanted.

He felt Sherlock open his mouth against his throat, and the anticipation swelled, sparking down his limbs and curling low in his gut and cock.

“Fuck!” Sally’s sharp cry and a distant shattering sliced through the air.

Greg blinked hard, it felt like things were moving quickly around him. He blinked again and his office came into a view. Something was poking him in the arm.

“There, I told you he’d wake up if I kept poking him.” Sherlock called over his shoulder.

One long arm was stretched across Greg’s desk and Sherlock was jabbing him in the forearm over and over. Greg blinked at him, his brow furrowed. Something was off.

“Had a nice nap Lestrade?,” Sherlock said, his tone sharp.

“ _ Sherlock _ ,” John’s reprimand drifted in from outside Greg’s office.

Greg blinked again and world seemed to align.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s been a long day,” Greg said scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I can imagine,” Sherlock said, nodding to the picture of Greg’s bruises that were strewn across the desktop. “I take it there’s no case of police brutality.”

Greg’s head snapped up sharply at Sherlock’s words, déjà vu tickling the back of his mind. Sherlock gave him a placid smile and feeling passed.

“No, the case is as good as closed,” Greg said slowly.

He would head home as soon as he was finished here. He’d clearly been at it for too long.

“Ready Greg?” John said, coming through the door. “I was helping Sally clean up a mug she broke,” he said at Greg’s questioning look.

So that was the crash that had stopped…stopped what? His thoughts fizzled out like a spent match.

“Yes, your statements,” Greg said, shaking his head. “John, I’ll start with you?”

Clicking his pen, Greg prepared to take notes, ignoring the prickling at the base of his skull.


	2. The Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our men have some fun in the back seat.

A few nights later Greg was walking home from the tube station. His car was at the mechanic’s after an unfortunate incident involving an irate suspect and his windshield. He sighed and pulled his coat closer around himself. Of course on the night he had to walk it would be fucking freezing. He quickened his pace and tucked his head down against the wind.

Just as he was turning the corner a car pulled up alongside him, the window rolled down and none other than Sherlock Holmes was staring at him. 

“Sherlock?”

“Get in,” Sherlock said opening the door and sliding out, tipping his head toward the open door.

John smiled at him from the inside. Just in front him John could see a blank faced driver. Greg felt unease prickle down his spine, his gut told him to reject the offer and run home.

“Get in Greg,” Sherlock said, his voice right at Greg’s ear, “It’s just John and I, no need to worry.”

Something about what Sherlock said made his stomach flip. Before he could say a word, Sherlock’s hand was at his back guiding him toward the car. Greg soon found himself sandwiched between John and Sherlock in the backseat. 

“How are you Greg?” John asked, squeezing Greg’s knee, “Sorry about your car.” The hand traveled higher and settled on Greg’s thigh. 

Greg blinked at the hand squeezing his leg and flicked a glance a Sherlock, to see what the man thought. He jumped a mile when he saw the man already staring at him.  Without breaking eye contact Sherlock reached up and pressed a button on the roof of the vehicle, with a soft click a privacy screen began to slide into place. As is clicked shut the backseat was thrown into hazy darkness, only the occasional flash of the streetlights giving Greg a better view of things. 

With his eyes trapped by Sherlock’s he didn’t notice John had moved until lips were pressing against the back of his throat. He jumped and pulled away, twisting to face John in shock.

“What are you-

“Shh,” Sherlock’s arms curled around his waist and pulled, until his back was pressed to Sherlock’s front. He was sitting sideways on the seat, one legs up on the upholstery, the other on the floor.

“Just enjoy it Greg,” the man purred and John began slowly sliding toward them.

“But I-

“Shh.”

John was in front of them now. He gave Greg a smile and carefully maneuvered Greg’s legs until he could slid between them. Greg swallowed hard as John pressed close and began undoing his scarf. Sherlock hands slid over his belly and chest until long fingers were working open the top few buttons of his shirt. 

Soon Greg was splayed across the seat, his chest on display and heart pounding. He had no idea what to say, his thoughts had slowed to a molasses crawl. Part of him wanted to curl up and hide, while the other wanted to see what would happen next.

“Mmm, look at him, Sherlock,” John said, his voice low, his eyes roaming over Greg’s chest. 

Sherlock hooked his chin over Greg’s shoulder. “I prefer to feel him,” he said. 

Greg’s mouth dropped open as Sherlock’s hands stroked gently up his sides, before rubbing lightly over his nipples.

“He’s sensitive!” John said, smiling wider as Greg shuddered in Sherlock’s arms.

Sherlock chuckled and plucked at Greg’s nipples, both men seemed delighted by his moan.

“You like that don’t you?” John whispered, smiling at him.

Greg nodded helplessly, his mind spinning. 

John laughed softly and leaned forward to lick at Greg’s left nipple. Greg jolted in shock, gasping. Sherlock’s hand curled in his hair, pulled back and bared Greg’s neck. Greg whined as Sherlock began kissing down his throat, his teeth scraping over the thin skin.

Greg was harder than he’d ever been in his life as John and Sherlock took him apart with teeth and tongue. When John pulled back his smile was sharp. Greg blinked blurrily at him, cupping John’s face with his hand to try and focus on John’s teeth. There was something about them…

John nuzzled his hand and planted a kiss on the palm. 

“I think he’s ready Sherlock,” John said, holding Greg’s wrist and dragging his nose along it. 

Sherlock hummed behind them, his lips still working Greg’s throat.

“I take it you want to go first,’ John chuckled.

Sherlock hum was more of a growl then.

“Have at it then.”

Sherlock chuckle was down right  _ evil _ , and Greg swallowed hard. A tinge of fear snaked through his lust, though his cock was harder than ever.

“It’s alright, Greg, you’ll enjoy it,” John said, dragging his thumb over Greg’s lips. 

Greg’s eyes widened as Sherlock’s teeth, feeling sharper than they should, dragged twin lines of pain down his neck. Greg moaned in delight and twisted to expose more of himself to Sherlock. John’s chuckle made him blush. Small hands petted down his sides soothingly. 

“Just enjoy it Greg,” Sherlock said, his voice morphed into something inhuman.

Greg shivered, arching against him. John made a small noise and then kisses were raining down on his chest. Greg tried to  look down at John, but Sherlock’s large hand held his head in place. 

“Just relax,” Sherlock and John said in unison.

Then Sherlock was biting into his neck.

Greg screamed as two fangs,  _ fangs _ , broke the skin. He tried to pull away but four hands held him fast as Sherlock began sucking. Greg gasped, body jerking as hard edged pleasure began to mix with sharp pain

“O-oh, I-

“That’s it Greg, let us take care of you.”

John still held his wrist hostage, his lips dragging over the skin. 

Greg moaned as Sherlock took a deep pull, his legs falling open. John caught his eye and ran his tongue (longer than it should be) over Greg’s wrist. He dragged his teeth over the skin, there was the briefest bit of pain, then two thin lines of red were oozing down Greg’s wrist. John licked hungrily over the skin, before he sealed his lips over the wounds and began a slow, steady, sucking rhythm. 

Greg let out a shout as Sherlock and John’s rhythms fell in sync. It felt as if his neck and wrist were directly wired to his cock. He helplessly thrust his hips, trying desperately for friction.

Sherlock’s free hand skated over his chest and thumbed a hard nipple. Without looking, John’s other hand gave Greg’s cock a squeeze through his trousers. It was blissful and it was torture. He needed more. 

Suddenly, Sherlock was pulling away from his neck. He licked slowly over where he’d bitten and let out a content sigh. 

“Delicious Greg,” he said, sounding every bit like a contented  cat. 

Greg could only whine, thrusting his chest against the slack hand at his nipple. Sherlock hummed behind him and lightly circled it, before playing with the tip. Greg shivered and tipped his head back to look pleading at Sherlock.

The man was smiling wickedly at him, his smile reshaped around razor sharp, blood soaked  teeth. Before Greg could beg, Sherlock was kissing him hard and fast, coating Greg’s lips in his own blood. 

“His neck’s free, John,” Sherlock said, when he’d pulled back, eyes locked onto Greg’s.

“Next time,” John said, voice garbled, before he continued sucking at Greg’s wrist. 

Sherlock shrugged gave Greg another kiss, before the awkward angle had Greg facing forward again. 

“Keep your eyes fixed on John,” Sherlock purred fingers stroking Greg’s chest.

Greg nodded eagerly, eyes locked on John crouched between his knees, lips sealed tight over Greg’s wrist as he took tiny sips of his blood. 

Sherlock’s nimble fingers worked open the rest of Greg’s shirt, baring his torso. Immediately, his hand were smoothing over Greg’s stomach and chest, tweaking his nipples, before slowly sliding back down his body toward his belt.

Greg arched as Sherlock undid his button and fly. He shoved them over Greg’s hips, then grasped his underwear and  _ ripped  _ splitting them down the middle and leaving Greg totally exposed. 

Greg barely had time to register what had happened when Sherlock’s hand curled around his cock and began stroking slow and steady.

Greg shouted, arching, then whimpering as Sherlock’s free hand kept him pinned to the seat. His hand set a rhythm that had Greg’s eyes clenched shut and toes curling in his shoes.

“John would love it if you come while he’s...” Sherlock’s words trailed off, his tongue tracing the shell of Greg’s ear.

Greg gasped as Sherlock thumbed his slit, and dragged his precome coated fingers hard and slow down his cock. Greg let his head loll against Sherlock’s shoulder as the man kept up a slow, steady pace that seemed to pull pleasure up from Greg’s toes and through his body. 

“Sherlock,” he breathed, thrusting his hips in time with Sherlock’s rhythm, his eyes still riveted on John’s feeding form.

“Next time, John wants to do this. He wants to fuck you nice and slow will I feed from you. Or maybe I’ll bite right here,” his fingers skated over Greg’s inner thigh, “ while John licks that little arsehole of yours.”

Greg shivered hard, Sherlock talking about him as food should not be as sexy as it was, yet his cock was hardening in the man’s hand. He nodded frantically as Sherlock’s hand speed up, his thumb rubbing over the slit with every up stroke.

Greg felt his pleasure spike, then he was shouting himself horse as he came all over his stomach. Sherlock worked him through the aftershocks, only pulling away when Greg twitched with over sensitivity. 

John pulled away from Greg’s wrist, licking over the skin and giving it a kiss. He looked at Greg then, his eyes bluer than Greg had ever seen and his blood lined mouth wide in a smile. Greg could only blink at him, his head spinning from endorphins and blood loss. 

“You,” he said,  petting Greg’s hair, “you are fantastic.”

Hand still in Greg’s hair, John leaned over and gave Sherlock a deep kiss. When he pulled back he was glowing even brighter.

“Home I think,” he said to Sherlock, lightly stroking Greg’s neck.

Sherlock hummed in agreement, “Greg’ll have questions when he wakes up, it’s best we’re close.”

“Plus after he rests we can…

John’s words trailed off as he and Sherlock looked down at him hungrily. 

Greg swallowed as John settled into the seat at his legs. Seeing his nervousness he patted the man on the leg and locked eyes with him, “Sleep Greg, we’ll take care of everything.

Before Greg could say a word, sleep was pulling him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Greg, Sherlock and John have a conversation that quickly turns into more (of course it does). Stay tuned!


End file.
